


But in this twilight, our choices seal our fate.

by gillasue345



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x09, 9x10, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, drunk!Dean, episode fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillasue345/pseuds/gillasue345
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic is a continuation of a tumblr post I made a few weeks ago. (See notes) Coda fic for 9x09 with a few spoilers for 9x10. Title from “Broken Crown” by Mumford and Sons.</p><p>Thanks to thesnuggliestduckling and cptn-of-my-soul for the beta! It really helped! Any mistakes found are mine.</p><p>"Cas makes it to the bunker finally, only to find Dean passed out in the leather armchair in the library. He takes a seat in the opposite chair and every so often he presses his fingertips to Dean’s forehead, staving of the worst of the nightmares because he knows that Dean will need his strength for the day ahead."</p>
            </blockquote>





	But in this twilight, our choices seal our fate.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m just imagining Dean sitting on that library floor… Alone, broken, sobbing. I’m picturing him try and pull himself together. I see him wiping the tears from his eyes and gently gathering up Kevin’s body, cradling him to his chest, trying desperately to protect his surrogate son from the world even after he failed him. I see him putting him gently in the backseat of the Impala, covering him with the old quilt that had been in the trunk for as long as he could remember.
> 
> I am imagining him build the pyre in the secluded woods. I can clearly see him crying as he lit the piece of paper with Kevin’s name on it and tossed it onto Kevin’s body. I see Dean driving to the nearest liquor store and picking up a bottle of bourbon, driving back to the home he’s created out of the bunker and drinking until he can’t see anymore.
> 
> I see him calling out to Cas, calling out to the angel who has his brother, calling out to a god he no longer believes in anymore, whiskey breath and drunken sobs. I see him finally passing out in the early hours of the morning, only to awaken a few hours later and it wasn’t all a nightmare. I see him picking up his cell phone and calling Castiel, because he needs him. He doesn’t have anyone else. And he needs the last person in his life that he loves. Even if he doesn’t deserve it. And then drinking until he passes out again.
> 
> And I imagine Cas hearing Dean’s desperate pleas for him to be with him, of Dean needing him. Not because he’s an angel, but because he just needs his best friend. But Cas doesn’t have his wings anymore, so he’s sitting on a Greyhound bus riding towards Kansas as quickly as possible, and he knows it isn’t fast enough. He finally gets a respite from the secondhand anguish that Dean is feeling when Dean finally passes out in the early morning hours.
> 
> Cas makes it to the bunker finally, only to find Dean passed out in the leather armchair in the library. He takes a seat in the opposite chair and every so often he presses his fingertips to Dean’s forehead, staving of the worst of the nightmares because he knows that Dean will need his strength for the day ahead.
> 
> And finally, when Dean’s eyes crack open, burning and dry from too many tears shed too quickly, the first thing he sees is Cas’ face, and he forgets that his life is falling apart around him because Cas is there. He called and Cas came just when he needed him the most.
> 
> And Dean reached out his hand. Cas looked down at it for a brief moment before grasping it with his own. A shock goes through the both of them and Dean can smell the faint aroma of lightning right before a storm, and he feel safe for the first time in months. He smiles through the fresh tears. That is what I’m imagining. And it hurts. A lot. I’m so sorry.

"Cas," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Hello, Dean." Cas replied softly.

“I’m so sorry, Cas.”

“I know,” Castiel said, and the man before him broke down completely. Castiel knelt down and Dean wrapped his arms around him. Cas could feel him shaking, but his sobs were silent, like making noise was too hard to bear.

Cas just held him through the worst of it.  

After Dean had cried himself out in the library, Castiel helped him to bed. Dean tried and failed to brush him off, but the whiskey was strong and his heart wasn’t really in it anyway.

They walked very slowly towards Dean’s room, Dean leaned heavily onto Castiel’s shoulder. His hand gripped Cas’ new trench coat, as if Dean was afraid that Cas would disappear if he let go.

He hadn’t stopped apologizing since he’d finally broken down. Sometimes he spoke to Cas. Other times he begged forgiveness from Sam, from Kevin, from God and even once from his father. He became more and more inconsolable with each person he’d asked for a forgiveness that could only really come from within.

Short of knocking him out, Cas wasn’t sure what to do to ease his pain.

They finally got to Dean’s room and for a moment Castiel just looked around. At some point in the course if the evening Dean had nearly destroyed his bedroom. His weapons were scattered across the room, his mattress was askew and his pillow had ended up on top of the dresser. The only place that wasn’t messed up was the bedside table, where a wallet sized photograph rested against a table lamp.

Dean stumbled and fell into the leather armchair in the corner while Cas put the bed back together. Then he turned back to Dean.

"Come on Dean, time for bed," Cas said authoritatively. He helped him unbutton his outer shirt and pulled it off his shoulders while Dean leaned heavily against him, pressing his face into the new material of Castiel’s trench coat.

Cas could feel the way Dean’s nose inched towards his neck and he pushed him back.

Dean didn’t seem interested in going to bed. His heart had started to race and his grip on Cas’ sides had become strong.

Cas pushed him away lightly.  _Not now_ , he thought.

He pressed Dean down onto the mattress and untied and removed his boots.

When Cas pulled the blanket out and covered him up, he tried not to notice the small whimper that Dean tried to hide.

Castiel did his best to rid Dean of the worst of his hangover with the press of his fingertips. As he did so, he savored the feeling of usefulness. He may not be able to rid Dean of his grief, but at least he could rid him of the physical discomfort.

He pulled away then, intending to let Dean sleep off the rest of the cheap whiskey. But just before he was out of reach he felt Dean’s fingertips around his wrist. He stiffened.

"Don’t go," Dean whispered. "Please don’t leave me again."

Cas softened. During the first hours following Kevin’s death, he’d gotten the full story. Dean had prayed. And Cas had listened as he confessed everything to him.

He told Cas about “Ezekiel’s” betrayal, about the lies, about why he had to push him away. As he’d gotten drunk, he started to admit other things, his desperation, his loneliness, his feelings.

The last one had brought Cas up short. More than ever as he traveled on that Greyhound bus, his feet propped up against the wheel well, he wished he still had wings. When they stopped for the fourth time that trip, at a convenience store outside of Kansas City, Cas had had enough with the interrupted journey. There was a car sitting abandoned in the parking lot, and Cas had stolen it.

Though he couldn’t get the music playing to stop, the heavy beat of the rap music dulled his overwhelmed senses and allowed him to think as he drove as quickly as he could towards Lebanon.

 All this time he’d thought that the things he felt for Dean were one sided.

When Dean had kicked him out of the bunker without so much as an explanation, Cas had resigned himself to the fact that what he wanted from Dean would never happen. That he needed to be content with his friendship, with his brotherhood. Dean wasn’t capable of giving Cas what he wanted, and Cas needed to accept that and move on. And he had tried.

But grief does funny things to people. Dean didn’t seem as guarded in those early morning confessions as he normally was. And as he listened to those prayers he probably wasn’t supposed to hear, he couldn’t help but forgive Dean for his betrayal.

Dean had said the words he’d never been able to say sober. All the feelings he had repressed for so long came bubbling to the surface. The whiskey helped loosen his tongue, surely, but they were things he’d been thinking for so long it was a relief to let them out.

While Cas was angry with Dean for lying, he understood why he did it. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was Dean would do just about anything for the people he loved.

The pit in his stomach that had been there since that morning Dean had dropped him off at the Gas N’ Sip had gone. Relief filled him up. He had been wanted. Dean had wanted him to stay with him.  It wasn’t because he had become human and wasn’t of any use to Dean. It was because of “Ezekiel’s” deception.

"I thought I’d let you sleep," Cas said finally. "I know you don’t like it when I watch you sleep."

Deans voice was hoarse and broken when he chuckled and said, “I was lying,” Dean paused, his grip tightening on Cas’ wrist. “Mom was right. You’re my angel. An’ I like it when you watch over me.”

Cas tilted his head to the side. He didn’t know what Dean was taking about but he took a seat at the edge of the bed anyway. Dean closed his eyes, but did not release Castiel’s wrist.

“Don’t go,” Dean whispered again, as sleep slowly overtook him.

“I won’t” Cas replied quietly. 


End file.
